How Tina Fey disappointed me, or What I’m Reading vol. 4 – Bossypants

Those of you who know me are shocked by the fact that this book disappointed me. Or are you? Let’s face it. I have spent the last six months anticipating this book. I built it up to be a revelation, a new Bible for me. Obviously it wouldn’t live up to the hype I created in my own mind-grapes.

I like to imagine that if Tina Fey met me, we would be besties immediately.  Tina would say, “When I look at you, it’s like looking in a mirror!  A funhouse mirror that makes me a foot taller and fifty pounds heavier. ”  She would invite me over to hang out with her and Amy Poehler, and we would be eating cake and ice cream and laughing, and then Will Arnett would join us and tell outrageous stories.

Of course, I know this will never happen.  I just had the idea that Tina’s book would be the equivalent of my dream.  I thought she’d share her innermost thoughts, and awkward and/or painful memories from an awkward and/or painful youth.

Instead, this was a memoir written by a very private person.  This was even more guarded than Clay Aiken’s memoir (and his memoir was written before he came out of the closet!).  Now, I understand how difficult it is to write a memoir, because I am trying to write one.  I got stuck because I didn’t even want to think about approaching the painful things I would have to write about.  Writing about the bad things that happened to you is like removing a band aid verrrry, verrrry, verrrry slowly.

So, yes, it makes sense to me that Tina didn’t want to go in depth about how she got her facial scar.  I understand that she doesn’t want to have to repeat the story over and over again.  However, Tina basically glossed over anything that was painful or meaningful or deep.  She didn’t talk about how she met her husband, or her adventures with Amy Poehler, or stories about touring with Second City, or dirt on her time at SNL.

Instead, you get a general overview of her life.  Yes, it is hilarious.  Yes, I enjoyed reading it.  Yes, I would recommend it to anyone who is a fan of Tina’s work.

I guess I’m just disappointed because I thought that by reading the book I would have insight into what Tina is really like as a person, and I don’t.  The most honest chapter in the book is the one about whether or not she should have a second child.  (Obviously this dilemma has been resolved, because she’s pregnant again!  Congratulations, Tina!)

I think this disappointment speaks more to my mental illness and need for validation than anything else.  I thought that I would read this book and say to myself, yes,  I really am just like Tina Fey!

Turns out I am more like Liz Lemon, and Liz Lemon is not really like Tina Fey at all.


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